


All Things We Are In The Dark

by dogtit



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, not explicitly romantic but it can be read that way, warnings for implied torture and abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 04:12:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11912964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogtit/pseuds/dogtit
Summary: “You know nothing,” Ana hissed, but Widowmaker knew she had hit a sore point, and reveled in it.“Of course none of you gave a damn about finding me when they took me. Just like none of you bothered to check to see if they had altered me.” Widowmaker’s voice broke, and with horror she knew she was sobbing, “You didn’t care enough to save me, Ana.”





	All Things We Are In The Dark

It clung to her skin, seeping into her muscles and her bones. Widowmaker had tried to scrub the substance off of herself with curtains she’d stolen from the skeleton corpse of a house.

She didn’t know what it was, this weakness. The capsule had come from nowhere, shattering at her feet and throwing up a sick purple cloud that almost immediately turned into a stick film. She’d been covered in it.

It made her weak, Widowmaker could tell. Wounds bleed more freely; her energy was dwindling. She was  _exhausted_  and had stopped taking breaks because she wasn’t sure if she could get back up.

For the first time in a very, very long time, Widowmaker felt fear.  _I cannot kill this._

As she rounded a corner to find shelter in a long abandoned alley, she felt the sting of a needle in the back of her right arm. Almost immediately came a cold flush of numbness, which was alarming; her slowed heart should have prevented such instantaneous anesthetics.

It fucking hurt, too, the power of a gun behind it. Widow’s Kiss slipped from lax fingers and she was spun from the momentum, landing on her side with a wheeze.

Almost face down in the dirt. Helpless. Widowmaker did not tremble, but her throat was tight. When Talon had broken her psyche apart to implant their spider’s eggs, they had disconnected her memories and her emotions. She had, for a time, truly felt nothing.

But it was a temporary thing. Like a slow healing wound, they were stitching themselves back together–altered, irrevocably perhaps, but still there–and now Widowmaker remembered how it felt to have her body be at someone else’s mercy.

It was. Unpleasant.

Footsteps, light. She was cast in someone’s shadow, untl they moved to crouch beside her. The Shrike, Widowmaker knew from the mask. A sniper.  _I have been beaten._

They reached a hand up to their mask, and removed it. Widowmaker could not stifle the gasp, the shock. She tried to get her arm to cooperate, to help her move, to help her  _run_ , but the dead weight of it was keeping her trapped.

Ana Amari stared down at her, alive. The eyepatch was just as damning as the remaining eye burning through her.

Widowmaker croaked, “I thought you were  _dead_.”

“As I thought you were, Amélie.”

Widowmaker flinched, dug her fingers into the dirt. For all that had been taken from her, her name had remained; hearing it from Ana now, though, made her inside curl up and rot, burning through her lungs. She remembered how it had felt to be out done, back when she was still new, still torn apart.

She remembered how satisfying it was to beat her enemy. And now, she remembered the sorrow that had chased her when it hit her that it hadn’t been a random sniper; it had been  _Ana_.

“Do it, then.” Widowmaker’s voice was level. “Kill me.”

“Kill you?” Ana’s mouth twisted into a grimace. “No. I have no intention of that.”

Widowmaker was silent.

“They believe they can bring you back to us,” Ana whispered. Her hand came up, and the tips of her weathered fingers brushed over Widowmaker’s cheek. She flinched away, hissing a warning. “I never knew what had been done to you. I thought you had joined Talon of your own will.”

At the end of it, in a sense, she had. In the end, Amélie had broken down from the pain, the trauma, signing the contract and her freedom away just to get it to stop. The conditioning had come after.

“Let me bring you home,” Ana whispered. “It is not too late. Not for anyone, if this old woman can see the error of her ways, then you–” 

“What was it that changed your mind, then.” Widowmaker’s voice was full of venom. “Did you see the videos? Did you see how they cut me open, Ana? Did you see how they kept me trapped in the dark?  _Did you see how they killed me?”_

Ana was quiet, the only reaction was to look away for just one, brief second.  _So she did, then._  Humiliation was bile on the back of her tongue. Amélie had begged and pleaded and whimpered like a dog. Widowmaker was ashamed to know that anyone, that  _Ana_ , had seen her at such a low.

“I should have known,” her voice trembled, “I should have known none of you would come for me. You gave up on your Tracer after a month.” 

“That’s  _not–_ ” 

“Gérard told me,” Widowmaker continued, “that after the plane reappeared without its pilot you all just sat on your  _asses_ and didn’t  _bother_. What was the issue again–ah, she wasn’t  _worth it_ , not monetarily. She was just a test pilot. She wasn’t even Overwatch. And you only give a shit when it’s your  _own_  stock.” 

“You know nothing,” Ana hissed, but Widowmaker knew she had hit a sore point, and reveled in it. 

“Of course none of you gave a  _damn_  about finding me when they  _took_  me. Just like none of you bothered to check to see if they had altered me.” Widowmaker’s voice broke, and with horror she knew she was sobbing, “ _You didn’t care enough to save me, Ana_.” 

“I cared,” Ana croaked. It might have been a trick of the light, to see her eye glossy and wet. Almost like she was going to cry.

“No, you didn’t. Murderers don’t care.” Widowmaker’s voice was cruel. “I should know, and we are cut from the same cloth, you and i. You were right–at the beginning, I did not choose Talon of my own will. But now, I do.” 

She launched the venom mine at Ana’s chest, heard the beep as it registered an unfamiliar biosignature. Glass exploded, and noxious fumes fulled the alley. Under the cover, and flinching from the sound of Ana’s hacking coughs, Widowmaker crawled away from Ana and into the dark.

It was where all spiders belonged.


End file.
